


Headphone Policy

by whathopsareinthis



Series: Comfortable Silence [1]
Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, BDE, Deaf Character, Ganon is a bit of a dickhead but he means well, M/M, Picklebacks are delicious and I will fight a man, beer snob AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-06
Updated: 2018-08-06
Packaged: 2019-06-23 00:35:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15594339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whathopsareinthis/pseuds/whathopsareinthis
Summary: Ganon gets stood up and has a rough go at accepting it. Someone tries to take the seat next to him.





	Headphone Policy

**Author's Note:**

> Part one. The second part is finished, that'll be forthcoming.

“It’s taken.”

The hand on the seat next to Ganon’s retracts with a beat of hesitation, almost as if the message isn’t clear enough. Scowling, the imposing figure who’d spoken just a bit too loudly over the bustle of the bar rears his head from the hunch he’s settled in to face his unwelcome guest. 

His eyes, followed by his chiseled chin, tilt down to find a petite, slender blonde gently clutching his wrist, almost as if he’d been slapped there for his efforts. A pale green beanie hides whatever locks would flow out, and obnoxiously blue eyes protected by glasses eventually turn to meet that gaze. If Ganon was in a better mood, he’d find it within himself to find the other man cute. Not so tonight. The night has been cruel to him.

“I’m waiting for someone. Seat’s taken.” 

The femme’s lips purse, his weight shifting to one knee as he immediately digs into his pocket to retrieve his phone with an intent that did not necessitate further investigation. And that, Ganon thinks, is that. He turns back to face the bar and the godawful mood permeating from his essence rescinds back to pierce lasers through the bottom of his neat bourbon. If his lack of success had made him any less salty, he’d find some way to make the night better.

Then his phone vibrates. 

A text.

A text!?

Ganon digs for his phone (Quicker than usual, desperate for some salvage). The muscled man lets the next sip of his drink past his lips before it hits turbulence and he finds himself struggling to keep it all in the correct pipe down his throat.

_ You’ve been sitting there for an hour. Whoever it is probably isn’t coming. _

His brow furrows, wondering who had taken the time to -

No. 

A deep seeded frustration not necessarily spurred on by the text settles in his jaw. The boy hasn’t moved as his head whips back around and he nearly leaps from the seat, his teeth grinding out a “How did yo-” 

The same hand that had invited itself to the stool at the bar raises flat to stop the larger man in his tracks. His nose nearly meets his palm, seeking to put himself over the blonde to make the point clear. His eyes follow that hand as it pulls back, fingers slowly craning to direct attention to one of his ears, flowing bangs pulled aside. A small earbud emerges from the canal, one of an assumed pair. The counter behind Ganon vibrates. 

Their eyes meet. Those oceanic orbs permeate and deceive the blonde’s demeanor. His cheeks tint. Ganon’s face softens an inappropriate amount before turning back to face forward, pulling open the message with his thumb. 

_ I can’t hear you. Text me back.  _

Ganon stops himself from looking back and exhales deeply against his phone. How long ishe gonna sit here? Is this some kind of elaborate joke? Was there enough whiskey in him to swallow his pride,  _ the _ Ganon, and let this twink take up his time? His thumb glides along the Swype function of his phone, roughly inquiring how he was able to find his number. He knocks back the rest of his whiskey while he hits send. The glass is replenished by Impa, the bartender on shift tonight. She, with the height advantage of standing, peers down at Ganon’s phone. “Oh, she text you back?” The inquiry is met with a scowl that times perfect with the  _ vrrt! vrrt!  _ of Ganon’s phone.

_ If I told you, you’d only get upset.  _

Ganon hunches over his phone, squinting to see his reply. The fuck did that mean?

**The fuck does that mean?**

His hand keeps his head up as he looks down to the side, the boy now in his peripheral. The tint of the blonde’s glasses catches the light and Ganon winces. His phone chimes in, dragging his attention back for another message.

_ It was in the trash of the unisex bathroom. Whoever you gave it to the other night - _

A pointed sigh forces itself out of Ganon’s mouth as he doesn’t even bother to read the rest. He remains there a moment, fuming with his chin cradled to his chest as his bruised ego prepares to take another under the chin as a follow up popped underneath. “God ffffffucking damnit.” 

_ You asked. Can I sit? _

Ganon doesn’t acknowledge the text, but reaches for his refilled glass to take the sting off and feels the chair scoot back, the boy inviting himself now that his hand has been played. He uses one hand to type a quick message before settling in and smiling at the bartender. She holds up a finger to gesture that she’ll be with him momentarily. Ganon frowns, taking this for an act of laziness after nursing three neat glasses of Death Mountain’s finest bourbon. He opens his mouth to say something, but the bartender has come back and that slender hand raises itself to form a series of gestures. 

HSL. The boy is deaf. 

She nods, leaning over to Ganon and murmuring, “That means he wants his usual.” Her tone was knowing as she lifts a hand up to her lower lip, arching it out towards Link. He smiles a bit too politely at that before returning to his phone.  She must have caught a glimpse. The words crawl back down Ganon’s throat, still stewing at how shitty his night has gotten but knowing better than to take it out on a stranger without realizing the truth of the matter. He grabs his phone.

**Why do you wear headphones, anyway? If you can’t hear anything.**

Ganon makes out those eyes again behind his next pull of liquor, trying to make himself somewhat presentable for his new company. His eyes keep from glazing by eyeing the boy, getting a proper look. The blonde glances up from his phone to catch a glimpse of Ganon very clearly eyeing him up and hesitates. Does he not want the attention? It wasn’t meant to be anything other than a look, just a once over. Ganon doesn’t mind the silence between them and turns away.

_ Folx don’t notice. Not having the words to show them - I get frustrated.  _

Ganon winces, choosing not to press the matter further. What was once embittered frustration melts into some congealed semblance of sympathy, and he Swypes another response before being interrupted again.

_ But folx do respect the headphone policy. So it works for me. _

The social contract doth declare - ‘if headphones are in, I can’t hear you and don’t want to talk to you.’ No fine print, no other interpretation. Ganon nods to himself, smirking as his thumb lazily dances across the touch screen.

**I’m Ganon.**

_ I know. _

Ganon looks to find the boy’s chair sliding towards him, revealing a little pudge of a belly protruding from under his bright pink button shirt. A jagged font reads ‘BADMAN’ in black on the back of it, but Ganon doesn’t notice. More amused than interested, he’s happy to have even a slight distraction from his string of bad luck. Two shot glasses are set in front of Link as one one dark liquid, and one cloudy green, fill them. 

Ganon raises an eyebrow. A Pickleback? 

Link downs the first glass, leaving the murky juice for last to counter the taste of whiskey that surely burns his throat. As he exhales, his hand pulls him forward and he makes a gesture. 

‘Give me the phone.’

Ganon doesn’t hesitate to hand him his phone, and as his fellow patron hunches over and makes a few swipes, Ganon briefly considers following suit on a pickleback for his next round. He’s been stood up, pestered, and is now texting the person next to him - the night has miraculously manifested a clean slate.

The phone is back in his hand. He looks down, and a contact has been made.

“Link.” There’s an emoji with glasses next to his name.

Ganon smiles for the first time all night. His glass is filled. 

**Link. OK.**

**-**

Link flashes a quick smile, watching Ganon’s lips form his name and hearing it so very clearly in his mind. It renders itself to a trickle as he sends his next response.

_ So, does this happen often? The ‘sad sack of shit taking up two seats’ routine? _

The bar has died down, but Link’s new companion doesn’t raise his voice any. His lips remain pursed, sometimes tugging into a tried smile. Link wonders if it’s because of his presence or not. Time and time again, he watched Ganon put himself out there for people, what with gender having little to do with love or whatever Link figured he justifies his deviance with, and leave little impression.

**Guilty. I’m drunk and my night is a tire fire. Sue me.**

Link smirks. The blonde wastes little time in formulating his next response, not letting up on the snark that persisted in his “tone.”

_ I’ll pass. You could use the attention, but I’ll pass. _

To the blonde’s surprise, Ganon laughs heartily at this, craning over his table to deliver a generous guffaw fueled by the whiskey, surprising enough for Impa to recoil in shock from four chairs away. It’s infectious, Link finds, as he finds himself smiling unabashedly at such a response. It’s the most genuine and vulnerable he’s seen Ganon probably in this bar ever, and he’s surprised by how easy it isto converse with when he isn’t filling out the room with his ego. 

It was the sexiest moment Link has encountered in months.

Ganon fishes a twenty out of his pocket and responds.

**Well, consider me humbled, little Link.**

Ganon turns his head and Link realizes he’s staring. He’s quick to pull his phone up to hide behind as Ganon, not one to relent once he notices any iota of attention, leans more towards the femme, legs spreading some. Link takes great care in analyzing the message a dozen times to hide from Ganon’s gentle emerald starre. A pregnant pause falls over them, the last text feeling light years behind them as Ganon breaks the silence.

“You’re cute.”

Link’s eyes widen behind his phone as the words slide like velvet off of his tongue. He’s read lips for years, so the corner of his eye catches his compliment. He’s seen this, the way he talks to people he’s trying to lure in for a night of whatever it is Ganon expects, but -

This feels different.

In comparison, the man has very little boundaries and is bountiful with praise. With Link, he’s seven different flavors of confused by the compliment. He makes a face, and misses Ganon sharing in his confusion with a careful frown. 

_ I know your type. I’m not your type. _

-

Ganon, with more mental fortitude, is normally quick to object to the notion that Link knows who he pursues to bed and how he’s drawn such a conclusion. He heaves a sigh, anxiety sobering him to let his misery slide into regret. He doesn’t look over just yet, rather staring down his phone and leaning back in his chair. The list of things he’s willing to give to see three dots bounce in the message window grows significantly. The side of the countertop feels a rapping of Ganon’s boot meeting it in a pensive repetition, and only stops as Impa clears her throat pointedly.

Though he isn’t much for it, Ganon decides to swallow his pride once more, and does something decisively uncharacteristic of him.

**Sorry if that was too far.**

Link covers his mouth with a barely audible gasp. Ganon continues typing.

**I know how I can be. What kind of pervert I am.**

An annoyed grimace stumbles past his gritting teeth.

**...Person. Autocorrect..**

Link doesn’t react. 

**But I meant it. Anyway. I’m sorry.**

Ganon has overstayed his welcome. Tab paid, night tarnished beyond recognition,and last call on the cusp of Impa’s lips, Ganon struggles out of his seat and thanks Impa with a soft “keep the change” as he makes for a swift departure. Internally he wishes for a rock to crawl under and never be seen by anyone at this bar again, but his bed would suffice for now.

A squeeze. 

Wait.

Ganon’s arm being clutched forces him back, and he turns back with a whip of his head to find Link, eyes glued to his phone. His thumb desperately types on its own, his clutch never relenting.  His bottom lip is toyed between his teeth as he turns, eyes staring lasers into Ganon’s pocket, reasons for doing so dubious until it vibrates. 

_ Am I your type?  _

Link’s lips purse hard as he swipes a quick follow up. He inhales a breath through his nose that he holds about as tightly as his grip.

_ Can I be? _

Ganon stares at his phone. He feels that hand squeeze ever so slightly. His head tilts down ever so slightly.

Impa announces last call.


End file.
